horizon
by Colorless Butterfly
Summary: - the line at which the earth's surface and the sky appear to meet. Because even from the beginning, he's always reminded her of the unreachable. canary x killua.
1. prelude

**Aw, yesss. That's right, this about Canary. Remember her? If you don't, head over to the hunterpedia website and refresh your memory.**

**Love you guys! Please enjoy.  
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**a big, BIG thanks to Atmospheric, my beta reader. **

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**_[prelude.]_**

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_Welcome to Meteor City._

Dust picked up by the fierce wind. The smell of rotting garbage and rotting corpses, of burning corpses underneath the burning sun, and the feeling of chilliness inside abandoned buildings and the dankness of abandonment. Of hunger, curling low and constant in her belly, a monster that she had long since learned to bear with. Of rough hands and dirty feet, the smell of smoke and ash and _rot_. Of tattered clothing and the unforgiving burning sun, ablaze in the blue, blue sky.

No one noticed her.

She was a scavenger, footsteps silent, nothing more than a small shadow darting among shadows. Amidst the piles of rubble and junk, she was _nothing._ She was just another tattered corpse, just another piece of dust picked up by the fierce wind, another piece of the burning sun.

In this world, there were only predators and prey, and the difference between one and the other were very, very hard to distinguish. One could be a predator in one instant and prey in the next.

Except for her.

A faint smile appeared on her dirty, brown face as she saw the group of kids crowd around a man who had fallen dead in the afternoon. Her fingers clenched tightly around the stick she held in her hands.

In this world of rubbish and abandoned junk, she would _always _be a predator.

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Canary raised the stick above her head, and brought it down with a yell. The group of kids before her scattered, abandoning the corpse like vultures abandoning a carcass.

Everything was gray here. Even the blood was a grayish-red. The only thing of any color was the sky, which was a brilliant, brilliant blue. She dragged the corpse away to hide in the shelter of an abandoned truck, lying on its side, its wheels long stripped of its rubber to reveal its gray and mutilated skeleton. Her hands expertly sought the corpse's pockets.

Her stomach clenched painfully in elation. _Bread. _There was bread in the corpse's pocket that the other kids had missed. Quickly, she wolfed it down, making sure to not even leave a single crumb. Her mouth tasted of dust and the hard bread cut into her tongue, but she swallowed anyway.

"Sorry," she told the corpse, when she had finished the bread. "Today wasn't your lucky day." He had been an older resident of Meteor City, and had collapsed at last from dehydration in the afternoon. There was no point in bread without water, after all.

The corpse didn't answer. She leaned down, and patted the corpse gently on the shoulder. She wasn't quite sure why she did so, but she figured it was something akin to pity. In this merciless city of cracked ground and open sky, there was no true pity, only relief that you were not the dead one and hope that you would not be the next.

As the wind picked up once again, the small figure stiffened. There was someone approaching, his footsteps carrying loudly among the eerie and deceptive deadness of the abandoned city. Quickly, she pressed herself against the side of the truck, kicking the corpse over to hide his face, and dissolved into the shadows to watch.

She was not alone. Everyone else was watching, too. She could _feel _them watching the stranger as they approached the outskirts of their home, hidden behind cracked pillars and beneath dusty tarps, just like she could _feel _the stranger as they approached without hesitation.

This was unexpected. People never came here, unless they were here to throw something away.

She peered at the figure, round brown eyes narrowed.

_What are you here to throw away? _she wondered.

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This man was taller and thinner, with dark hair and a well-trimmed beard. Oddly, he seemed almost at ease with walking through the wreck of a city, despite his appearance.

Outsider. Canary was interested. She was an interested shadow pressed against the side of the truck, stick held carefully to avoid it from bumping against the metal exoskeleton of the truck, sliding slowly closer, inching her way towards the man.

She'd always wanted to leave the city, but she'd never dared to do so. There was no existence out there for her, after all. No papers of her birthdate or documentation of her name. Both inside the city and out, she was nothing more than a ghost, a shadow among shadows that could not be seen. The freedom of nonexistence only existed within a nonexistent city, after all. In the world outside Meteor City, nonexistence made it almost impossible to survive.

All of a sudden, the man seemed to stiffen. He turned, and looked in her direction.

For a moment, her blood froze. Her heart thudded fiercely in her chest, and her knuckles turned white as she clutched her stick, feeling the worn-down wood dig into her palms. What? Had she been noticed? She swallowed dryly, and _erased_ her presence even more so than before, curling it tight into her stomach and pulling it into a ball. She held her breath, peering at the man, forcing herself to calm down and keep her presence hidden.

After a moment, the tall, well-dressed man turned away, shoulders relaxing faintly. She let go of her breath as well, feeling the odd panicky sensation slowly slip away from her chest. Somehow she had not been detected.

When the man left the city, she followed.

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_._

Meteor City is a city of contradictions. It is an ever growing city of decaying trash, a non-existent city home to millions of people that do not exist, a city containing thieves and killers and people of all nationalities yet a stunningly unified population. There is a certain freedom in the idea of nonexistence, and a sense of isolation as well.

This is the city that Canary grew up in. This is the city that Canary called her home with _pride; _she loved the cracked, harsh ground and the dirty piles of rubble and the ever-present smell of decay, and she loved the wide, unpolluted sky.

Meteor City extended for many miles. In fact, what Canary considered to be 'outside' the city was in fact only a point where the rubble stopped accumulating in piles and piles and piles. There were still plenty of abandoned junk and garbage, littering the edges of the city in small pockets. The only true way out was a lonely highway that ran past Meteor City, occasionally brushing against a few of the piles of abandoned junk that were scattered around in the surrounding region.

Canary had always darted around the outskirts of Meteor City, but she'd never actually taken a step out of the city. Now she had done the unthinkable - she had followed the man, eyes hungrily watching his back, stick clenched in her hands. She crouched on top of a decrepit building, watching.

This man felt different to her. It made her curious.

It was a long way until the highway, but her questions were answered when she spotted a car in the distance. He had evidently driven out to Meteor City from the highway, but once again Canary found herself wondering why.

Her stomach clenched once more. She was hungry. She ignored the feeling.

Below her, the man stopped walking, once again.

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"I know you're there," the man said, suddenly.

She froze.

"I know you've been following me," he continued to say. The faintest hint of steel entered his voice. "Come out."

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Her breath caught. Canary didn't know how she had been noticed. In Meteor City, she had always prided herself on being completely unnoticeable. It was helpful when stealing food from other people, and even more when it came to sneaking into places.

She couldn't help it. Her palms became clammy, and her stomach clenched in panic, adrenaline spiking through her system. This was the second time that he'd noticed her! Canary held her breath and forced herself to _shrink, _to freeze completely and _pull _any traces of her presence in once again, coiling it into a ball inside her. It had worked last time.

_Take a deep breath._

She swallowed harshly, and willed herself to breathe.

"If you don't come out, I will come to you," the man continued, his hands deep in his pockets. Despite his relaxed posture, there was no hiding the hidden threat in his words. "I won't hurt you if you come out right now. So please, relax. I'm just curious as to what makes me so interesting you have to tail me this far outside Meteor City."

Her hands clenched against her stick. Should she reveal herself? Canary was caught in indecision. It felt unnatural to her, because she was so used to being unseen, but then again, he had said that he wouldn't hurt her. She swallowed dryly. Stay hidden, or reveal herself?

The man sighed, and then lifted his hands out of his pocket. Something glinted in his hands, and Canary was instantly alert, her muscles tensing. Was it a knife? A gun?

It was just a coin. Canary watched with curiosity as the man flipped it up in the air with practiced ease, letting it flash between his knuckles. He weighed it for a moment, and then shrugged.

Then with _impossible _speed, he pivoted and flicked the coin in her direction.

Canary _moved_. She leaped off the building, feeling the dizzying rush as she plummeted to the ground, nothing more than a flickering black shadow, stick firmly in her hands. She landed heavily on the ground, but unhurt. When she glanced up, she realized with fear that the coin had embedded itself deep into the granite wall right below where she had been crouching, small cracks coming from the hole that it had made.

_It wasn't a bullet from a gun, but it might as well have been. _

Then, to her abrupt panic, the man was standing in front of her, an imposing shadow that had her cornered to the wall. Somehow, in the time it had taken for her to jump off the building, he had darted forward to trap her. Canary tensed, and straightened up, her heart pounding fiercely. Should she run? She could run around the corner, sneak into the shadows, make her way back to Meteor City.

She reacted instinctively, raising the stick up in a defensive pose.

The two faced off for what seemed like an eternity. Canary felt her entire body tense, ready to either attack or run away at a moment's notice. She kept her grip on her stick firmly, though, and continued to watch the man warily. Now that she could see him up close, she saw that he was clean-shaven, with sharp eyes hidden behind glasses and an equally sharp chin.

She subtly took a step back, and instantly he had grabbed hold of her, making sure that she couldn't run.

Canary reacted instinctively. She swung at him hard with her stick, aiming straight for his head. The head was always the weak point, and a good blow to the temple never failed to knock someone out.

To her surprise, he easily caught the stick with his free hand. Canary let out a faint cry as her stick was wrenched out of her hands. It clattered noisily as it was dropped to the ground, and Canary grimaced at the sound, and began twisting frantically, trying to escape.

"Hey now," the man said pleasantly, his tone at odds with his vice-like grip on her arm, "calm down. I scared you really well back there, so I was a little worried, but clearly that's not an issue. Nice moves, though. You reacted instantly. Most people wouldn't have been capable of even seeing that."

Again. He had told her that he wouldn't hurt her, but clearly he would not let her go. Canary winced, and struggled violently, her small body desperately trying to escape.

"Whoa! Easy there! I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" the grip on her arm tightened. "Calm down. I want to talk."

"Let me go!" she snarled, struggling even harder, desperately trying escape his hold, "let me go!"

"Oh! You do speak!" he smiled, but did not let go of her despite her best efforts. "I'm surprised. You're much younger than I thought you'd be; you look about the same age as my young master, which means you mustn't be more than nine years old. That city you come from is very brutal."

Canary's hands tightened, but there was no longer a stick so she simply dug her dirty fingernails into her palms, knuckles turning white, glaring fiercely at the ground.

He took a step closer, and that was when Canary realized.

She had totally stilled, her muscles tensing. Because there was no mistaking the way that he carried himself, not when she was so up close. It was faint, but it was so obvious to her now she wondered how she could have missed it before. People from Meteor City would always recognize each other. It had to do with the way their body moved, the way their eyes shifted and the feeling of _otherness _that always followed them. _  
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Canary exhaled.

"You're from Meteor City," she said. It was less of a question and more of an accusation.

He was well-dressed, and well-fed, and clean. Clearly, he was one of those people who had left the city, sometimes to find work and make a unobtrusive but dangerous living, or one of those that had decided to become a criminal. She bit back her questions, and resorted to frowning.

He smiled at her, but it was a dangerous smile, one of bared teeth and a needle-like scrutiny. "Correct," he said.

If he was surprised at what she had observed, he did not show it. Instead, he straightened up, and regarded her with an intent gaze behind glasses. Canary tested his grip on her arm, and was disappointed to find that she still could not break free.

"I am indeed from here," he said, a harsh frown appearing on his face, "but that should not be surprising. Why did you follow me, little girl?"

She swallowed dryly, unable to meet his face. Her fingers twitched uneasily. "Why did you leave?" she countered. She trained her eyes on the ground, and kept her voice angry.

"Leave?"

"Leave the city. Meteor City. Why did you leave?"

It was momentary, _just a little bit, _but his grip relaxed on her arm. Canary reacted instantly, and wrenched her arm out from his grip. In the next moment, she had darted backwards, intending to duck into the shadows, but he was faster. The man lunged forward immediately, foot lashing out to trip her. Canary let out a cry as she thudded to the ground hard. Momentarily confused, she staggered to her feet, only to twist and struggle violently as he caught her by the stomach.

"I left the city," the man said very solemnly, continuing as if completely disregarding her attempt to escape, "probably for the same reason you are trying to leave now."

She froze then, her struggling coming to a stop.

"What - ?"

"You followed me all the way out here," he told her, warily. "And I can tell, little brat. You don't want to be in the City anymore."

Canary flushed, and was glad that her caramel skin hid her embarrassment.

"H-how...?" How did you know? How can you tell?

He gave her a frown. Then, uncharacteristically, he released his grip on her arm.

Canary twitched. _Run away now, _she thought to herself. But she did not run away. Instead, she stood in front of the tall man, her fingers grasping at her clothing. She missed the feel of her stick; it had become part of her, somehow, and she glanced at it, wondering if she could maybe grab it from the ground.

"My name is Gotoh," the man said. "I am actually a butler, for a very, very famous family of assassins called the Zoldycks. In my profession, you see, it's important to not exist."

She looked up. He was appraising her now, a thoughtful frown on his face. She did not see where this was going.

"You..." the words fit oddly in her mouth, like a puzzle piece that was had been turned sideways. "You're right. I...I want to leave."

Gotoh nodded, and stuck his hands into his pockets. He was still looking at her with a faint frown, as if he was debating upon something.

She shifted nervously. For one moment, Canary desperately, desperately considered running away. This time there was more distance between the two of them. He would not be able to catch her, if she decided to run. Her fingers tightened against the hem of her shirt before relaxing.

"What is it?" she finally asked, her voice higher than she would have liked.

"...Come back with me," Gotoh said, and her eyes widened.

"Recently, there were..._accidents, _and we lost some of our employees," his voice was cold, but gentle. "I don't usually hire butlers on whim like this...but you have potential. You'll be given food, and a chance to earn your own worth. You're young, and I'm sure Tsubone will have a fun time teaching you. You have all the prerequisites. You will be a fantastic butler to the family that I serve, but only if you want. Only if you come back with me."

He offered her a hand, and she looked at it, her expression confused, indecisive.

_Impossible, _she sneered inwardly, _you are lying. You have no such intentions._

He was offering to take her away.

People who came to Meteor City did not come to take. They came to throw away.

_But this person..._

_...this person was offering her an existence where her nonexistence was needed._

A faint, despairing smile appeared on her face. It was an expression that sharply contrasted with her round, young face, and her small, thin, dirty hand slipped into his rough and strong one.

_When given this kind of opportunity, how can I possibly refuse?_

"My name is Canary," Canary told him.

"Please...take me with you."

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><p><strong>Gotoh is also from Meteor City. I thought that if there was any way for Canary to become an apprentice butler in the Zoldyck family, it would be because Gotoh found her.<strong>

**this...exploded, i guess. It was supposed to be a 500 word drabble, but it turned into a 3000 word prologue, and then now i want it to be a story and i can't get it out of my head. Meteor City has always interested me and I've always liked Canary as a character but like...**

**I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS FOR _MONTHS _DAMN IT.**

**If I make this into a story, it will probably be a romance between Canary and Killua. I've always wanted to write that pairing. ****Granted, she's a minor character, and there's just so much OC competition out there for Killua that she's probably shunted completely out of the picture, but I've always entertained thoughts of how interesting this couple could be.**

**Anyways, yup. I'm starting another story. This will be CANARY-CENTRIC. I really want to experiment on this one and develop her as a character, as well as her relationship with Killua. The first few chapters will probably be fairly stand-alone, because I don't really know where I'm going with this story in terms of plot. I just want to write a badass Canary.**


	2. brume

**title: **_horizon._

**summary: **She wondered how he could be an assassin when his hair stuck out so obviously.

**pairing:** canary x killua

**chapter: **1. brume (a mist, or fog.)

**disclaimer:** I do not own Hunter x Hunter.

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"Here," Gotoh said, "one of the butlers made this for you."

He tossed her a staff, and Canary caught it. Her hands ran over the polished wood, and she looked at it with a mixture of both cautious scrutiny and curiosity.

It was dark black, with a round ball attached to one end. As Canary tested it, she was pleased to find that it was easy to swing despite her small stature, and that the tapered end fit nicely between her hands. It wasn't as familiar as the stick she used to carry, but it was a good replacement.

"...thanks," she said. Instead of giving her a knife to draw blood, they had given her a staff. A staff was used to beat people with, to injure more than to kill. _Interesting. _She was from Meteor City; she was no stranger to blood, and yet even as an apprentice butler to the Zoldyck family they did not want her to kill.

She thought about Gotoh's coins, and how they had punched a hole in a concrete building as easily as if it were a bullet, and wondered if perhaps someday she would have the same kind of ability._  
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Canary was fascinated. Never before had she seen trees so large, forests so big, or buildings that were not in ruin. She'd never worn something as nice as the suit she was wearing now, and she had never slept in anything as nice as a bed. She felt oddly out of place, and the weight of her new weapon comforted her somewhat. She always felt calmer with something in her hands. It was her one piece of familiarity in a completely different land.

Gotoh seemed to understand. He ruffled her hair somewhat affectionately (because really, Gotoh never displayed actual feelings of affection) and gestured her to the door.

"You're new, so the mistress has given you a few days to adjust, but you mustn't be idle. Tomorrow, she'll probably want to test you and your abilities. Take today to get used to your staff."

Tested. Canary had sort of expected a test of some sort, so she nodded, and excused herself behind a smile. She still felt strangely disoriented in her new surroundings. So far, the only people she had met were the other servants in the servants' headquarters, far away from the actual mansion.

She took a deep breath.

_Always bow when you see one of the Zoldycks,_ she remembered the servants telling her sternly, _you're new here, but you won't get any sympathy. Stand straight up when you speak. Accept orders without complaint or question. Do not speak until asked to do so. Always address them with utmost formality and politeness. You are a butler; a servant, and you cannot disobey orders. In time, you will learn each Zoldyck's name; even the youngest one is capable of killing you. You must stay hidden, but do not think that they do not know where you are._

She had only been here three days, but they had said she was a quick learner. _Sucks up information and retains it like a sponge, _they said. _It must be because she's so young. _She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that, but Gotoh seemed to understand._  
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"It's unimportant," he had told her, flipping a coin up and down casually, "I wouldn't have brought you here if I had expected anything less."

She looked up at the sky, which was grayer and icier than she was used to_, _and breathed deep. She smelled the rich tanginess of the forest floor and the scent of pine, of the wind ruffling the treetops and the shifting of leaves as they fluttered to the ground. Her hands found her staff, and Canary closed her eyes.

This was not her home.

Home was cracked ground and parched throats, was burning hot sun and the feeling of dust and decay wrapped around her like a blanket. Home was finding shade under abandoned vehicles and stealing bread from other people, of hiding in the shadows and breathing with her stomach, silently, so she wouldn't be noticed. Home was Meteor City, where she found comfort in her nonexistence and shared her nonexistence with others.

_You are the one who wanted to leave. _That was true. There was nothing left for her in Meteor City. She had been alone from the beginning.

Canary played with the staff in her hands, swinging it experimentally. The ball on the end was ideal for hitting others, so Canary spun the staff quickly, making sure she'd be able to control its rotation. It was similar to her stick, if she thought about it.

At the Zoldyck residence, everything was different. It was as if she had stepped into a completely different world.

But she would survive - _I will survive, _she told herself, grimly, smacking the ball end of her new staff into a training post, the reverberations of the impact making her arm a pleasant familiar numb, _I will survive here and I will exist - _and she would do anything to do so._  
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The first glimpse of the Zoldyck family was just that - a glimpse.

There were five brothers, she had been told. There was one around her age - _Killua-sama, _they said, _a prodigy indeed. His older brother Illumi-sama is overseeing his progress as an assassin. _

White hair. That was the only thing she could tell. He was talking to his older brother, who had long black hair that reached down to his waist. The white-haired boy held a skateboard tucked casually under his arm.

The taller brother - _Illumi-sama, the eldest - _shrugged lightly, and walked away, as if the conversation had ended. Canary watched the younger boy with the white hair stand there for a moment, his posture deceptively loose for someone who was supposed to have been trained as an assassin from birth.

He stiffened. He turned his head, and looked at her.

She wasn't terrible surprised he had noticed her. She hadn't been trying to conceal her presence.

_Smile and bow whenever one of them sees you. _Hoping her momentary pause had gone unnoticed, Canary smiled, and clasped her hands around her staff as she bowed.

When she looked up again, dark ringlets swinging around her head, he had disappeared.

_Brat._

But those eyes. _Funny, _Canary mused, _his older brother's eyes were black._

But Killua's eyes. Killua-_sama's _eyes...

They had been blue._  
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_Let's see how good of an assassin you are, Killua-sama._

This time, she hid her presence. This time, she coiled her presence tightly inside of her, forcing herself to become something unnoticeable, a flicker of a shadow that could easily be mistaken for the shadow of a swaying tree. This time, her feet fell silently on the forest floor. It wasn't the same as Meteor City, but the basics were the same. She could still be invisible.

She found him sitting high in a tree, back turned to her. He was holding an apple. She approached carefully, and then bowed again, hands clasped around her staff behind her back.

Then, very carefully, she loosened the tight leash on her presence, and felt herself reappear. The boy stiffened once again, and turned to look at her. She straightened, and smiled again.

"...Did you need something?" he asked, and she was a little surprised at his voice. It was somewhat flat - bored, even - but it held enough interest that Canary found it within herself to smile once again.

"Just wanted to say hello, Killua-sama. I'm new here. My name is Canary, and I was hired as an apprentice butler while you were gone."

He was young, still a child. Canary found herself scrutinizing him discreetly, trying not to stare in a way that would be rude. He had silver-white hair, large and messy around his head, and it contrasted oddly against the bark of the tree. She wondered how he could be an assassin when his hair stuck out so obviously.

The boy appraised her with raised eyebrows, the interest in his wide blue eyes readily apparent. For a moment, Canary was stunned by the clarity of the blueness of his eyes, and how they reminded her of the skies in Meteor City. Up on the mountain, the sky was a perpetual shaded gray. It was (once again) a disorientating sensation.

"Don't be so formal," he said, offering the apple to her. "Just call me Killua."

"Impossible. While I appreciate the notion, I am a servant, and you are my employer, Killua-_sama_."

The faintest hint of disappointment crossed the boy's features, which surprised Canary, but he hid it well, glancing away with a huff as he retracted the apple. "...Lame," he said, without a single inflection in his tone. He glanced at his apple briefly, rotating it in his palm, and then took a bite.

Then he paused, eyes still closed. "You were using the Shadow Step, right?"

It was clever, the way he said it. He was so casual when speaking, it was as if he didn't want to give off the impression that he was genuinely curious.

Canary was confused by the question.

"Ahh," she said, frowning slightly, "perhaps it is just something I learned in Meteor City."

Killua's eyebrows rose, and he turned to look at her, bright blue eyes faintly surprised. "Meteor City?"

"My hometown," Canary told him, and it was hard to keep the longing out of her voice, although she kept her expression carefully controlled. "It's a city that's been erased from the map. You're allowed to dump anything there."

Killua _hmm_ed, and then shrugged, turning away. "Never heard of it."

She bristled, although imperceptibly. Her lashes lowered, and Canary was glad her fingers were still clasped behind her back. He would not be able to see the way her fingers had tightened.

"It is very different from here, Killua-sama," was all she said in reply.

His unnerving blue gaze slid over to meet hers. Then he looked away again, rotating the apple in his palm thoughtfully. "I'd like to visit it sometime."

..._Really? _She couldn't help herself. "If- if you ever want to visit it," she said in response, weighting her words, trying not to show uncertainty, "I'd like to be your guide." A faint smile appeared on her face at the idea of returning home.

Then she remembered one of the other servant's words, _even the youngest child is capable of killing you within seconds, _and her smile faded.

The boy made another _hmm _noise, and slipped down from the tree, tossing the apple away. Canary followed his movements with thinly veiled curiosity, noting the way his feet landed on the forest floor, silently. Indeed, she realized, this _Killua-sama _was someone she could not possibly fathom. Just a boy, perhaps younger than her, and already his movements were so silent they would have rivaled even the most skilled people in Meteor City.

This was new. Canary typically did not interact with kids her age; even in Meteor City, she had been a loner.

A faint feeling of competitiveness appeared in her stomach, and she squashed it mercilessly. _Capable of killing you within seconds, _she reminded herself sternly.

A wide smile appeared on the boy - _Killua-sama - _'s face, and he took a few steps toward her.

"I'll show you something cool," he told her, grinning with the kind of smug arrogance only a privileged child would have.

Canary schooled her features into interest, although she was more confused than anything. _Show absolute deference; you are a butler. Do not think of yourself as equal to any of them._

Killua cracked his neck, hands shoved into his pockets.

"This is the _Rhythm Echo,_" he told her. And then he _moved._

And Canary...

...Canary resisted the clenching, abrupt and unexpected impulse to _kill Killua._

Because something about the way he walked, his footsteps now audible against the hard forest floor, the precise, practiced, controlled body movements - now Canary was seeing afterimages of Killua, until they surrounded her, simply from the way his body shifted, and_ g__od,_ how she held her body stiff, jaw set, eyes tracking Killua's afterimages, hands clenching unconsciously at her staff.

She had to admit, almost grudgingly, that the butlers were not exaggerating. Killua was definitely of assassin-birth. _Everything - _from the way his eyes had flicked down to her, from the way he slipped down from the tree, his every movement, the way he breathed, to this, right now, as he walked so casually and yet created afterimage after afterimage, screamed assassin.

_Even the youngest one is capable of killing you within seconds. _All of a sudden, Canary was more interested in the Zoldyck family, and Killua in particular. All of a sudden, this rule held more weight.

She had never killed before. In Meteor City, she had been a scavenger, not a hunter. But Killua...Killua was a trained assassin from birth. He killed for a living.

And this frightened her. It preyed on every single instinct she had. Because if this had been Meteor City, Killua was a threat, and when it came to threats, the first impulse was to eliminate it. Except this was Kukuroo Mountain, and she was so far away from her beloved home, and the guidelines she had lived by all her life simply did not apply here.

Killua stopped, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. "It uses the Shadow Step," he explained, "You move your body at a certain rhythm to create afterimages."

_Hmm. _Canary nodded slightly, and then her eyes narrowed at a prickling against her mind.

She _felt _people, far off in the distance, and she let her body language betray her, tensing as she took count of the many approaching presences.

This time, Killua noticed her unease, his eyebrows rising, and gave her a noncommittal shrug. "Let Mike handle it," he told her, seemingly unworried.

Canary simply smiled, and shook her head.

"Mike has been ordered to be restrained today," she told him. "This is a test for me. An apprentice butler must prove herself worthy, of course."

Understanding crossed Killua's features, and then an unexpected smile appeared on his face.

"Okay," he said simply.

Canary bowed deeply, and once again when she looked up he had gone.

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.

_60. 70. No, more than that. 90, perhaps 100?_

All of a sudden, Canary was worried. She wasn't very accustomed to her new weapon, no matter how well it felt in her hand. She had never truly fought with it before, and so as she stood in front of the property gate and faced down the large group of people, the faint feelings of nervousness begin digging in her stomach.

She was reciting protocol to the large group, the memorized words flowing easily from her lips with a self-assurance she only partially felt. Indeed, the odds were against her. She was small, and this group seemed to be composed of older men who were obviously accustomed to fights. It was one against a hundred.

But in the end...Canary's grip tightened on her staff, and she glanced down at the line that marked the area between the household property and the forest. One gate. One line. All she had to do was ensure that no one passed.

These men were strong. They knew how to fight; knew how to attack in groups. One of the boss's lackeys gave a resounding cry, and the group charged, each brandishing their own weapon.

_Defend the line. Make sure no one passes._

Canary inhaled.

She had never really been much of a fighter. She'd been more of a hider, someone who sneaked their way around and was never noticed. But she knew how to defend herself, and she knew how to fight against bigger opponents. And she had spent enough time at the servant's residence to understand that some things...some things, no matter where you were, would remain the same.

_Just like Meteor City...**there is no mercy here.**_

Exhaled.

_...okay, _she thought. _Defend the line._

The staff spun in her hand, and the moment the first man stepped over the line, she whacked the ball end of the staff into his forehead, throwing him back.

These people were experienced, but they lacked delicacy. Every movement was sluggish and heavy, graceless. Canary spun the staff in her head again, realizing how clever the other butlers were for giving her this kind of weapon, and easily dispatched of the other two men. They thudded to the ground well outside the line.

Centrifugal force. Canary was strong; she knew that. But by spinning the staff, she could easily gather more force and deliver blows that could knock out a grown man with a single hit.

"Bitch!" one of the men snarled.

_Come at me, _she thought in her head, and knew that despite her serious expression the knot of nervousness inside her stomach had disappeared.

These men.

They absolutely _could not compare _to Killua.

_Do not let them pass._

Canary let a brief smile flash across her face, felt her expression smooth back over into a stoic mask, and wondered if perhaps Killua was watching.

_...easy._

It was a blur of movements from there, simple ducking and careful footwork. Dislodge the weapons, then disable them through a well-placed blow. She didn't hit hard enough to kill, but she hit hard enough to knock them unconscious. Soon she was facing against the boss himself, staff pressed against his two large swords.

"Give up," she told him, her voice smooth. "This is futile and you know it."

He roared, and swung his swords once again. She ducked a swing and sidestepped a messy thrust, and kept her grip firm around her staff.

Her staff met his swords once again, and Canary was pleased to find that her new weapon was surprisingly sturdy against sharp blades, despite feeling as light as wood. She pushed him back, and the tall man let out a noise of frustration. He crossed his arms, and two smaller knives exploded from the hilts of his blades.

Canary spun her staff, eyes narrowing, and batted the two away with two sharp movements. _Well, _she admitted to herself, faintly surprised, _at the very least, I wasn't expecting that.__  
><em>

"I told you," she said, meeting his swords again with her staff, an unexpected surge of irritation inside her stomach, "give it up. How can you expect to be a match for the Zoldycks when you can't even beat an apprentice butler?"

The boss was sweating, an intense frown on his face. _Not long now, _Canary decided, noticing the way his muscles shook from exertion. Not long until she would find an opening, and strike._  
><em>

Then he grinned, and opened his mouth to reveal two sharp blades.

_Ugh! _Canary vaulted away, her staff swung sharply to deflect the first blade, the impact sending shudders through her arm, and gritted her teeth as the other sank deep into her shoulder. She landed in a crouch on the ground, wincing as her injured arm braced against the ground for support. The sharp blade stung, and she could feel the blood welling out of the puncture wound.

The man in front of her straightened, laughing. Canary ignored him and focused on her wound.

_Breathe, _she told herself. _You can continue. It's just the upper arm. _

With a faint wince, she plucked the blade from her arm. It slid out fairly easily, and she tossed it aside, feeling her muscle spasm as it readjusted to the sharp pain.

_Breathe, _she repeated in her head, and even though the blade had sunk in deep it was a clean wound, one that would heal easily. This would not be her first injury. She could take it.

The man was talking. She ignored him.

Canary inhaled, eyes fluttering shut, and exhaled once more, her expression grim.

_If Killua's_ watching...she thought almost absentmindedly, hand gripping at her staff,_ I suppose he'll be a little angry with me._

"...so, you little bitch, hurry up and die!"

_"This is the Rhythm Echo."_

She had no similar fancy name for such a thing.

Carefully, Canary relaxed her breathing, and began to walk.

Every step at a perfect tempo. Every shift of the feet, of the shoulder; every movement had to be the exact same. Wobble, and the afterimage will disappear. Twitch, and the illusion will be broken. It was a careful mixture of concealing one's presence and controlling one's body as precisely as possible.

Killua had been a little misinformed. This Rhythm Echo of his was never a uniquely assassin trademark.

Canary had always, always been good at being unnoticed. To walk without a sound was something she had learned a long time ago. And if it was to move in a certain rhythm, in order to leave a faint afterimage to confuse anyone who might have seen her...well.

_...easy._

The boss was confused; looking at past-herselfs that simply weren't there anymore. Canary took the opportunity to strike. She whacked him fiercely in the stomach and then kneed him from behind, making it seem as if the Hunter was being attacked from multiple directions. She dodged a clumsy swing, stabbed the tapered end of the staff sharply into the Hunter's gut, and then slammed the ball end of the staff into the Hunter's face.

She schooled her features into a mask of impassivity as the man thudded unconsciously to the ground, and breathed a faint sigh of relief.

...A hundred men, defeated. She readjusted her grip on her staff, faintly perturbed. In her life, she had never been ordered to so ruthlessly take down such a large number of people. But at the very least, it proved what she was capable of. The faint stirrings of elation swept up from her stomach to her chest.

_If this was a test, _she thought, with a mixture of both darkness and triumph, _I passed it._

"Zebro-san," she said.

The large man emerged from the trees, an amicable smile on his face. "Oh," he said, his voice friendly, "you noticed."

_Of course I noticed. _Canary knew how to hide herself; knew how to conceal her presence so thoroughly that even watchful people paid her no attention. And that was why she was so hyper-aware of other presences.

"Can you clean up here?" she asked, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. She would have to get it dressed later in the butler's residence.

_Two behind me. I don't know who, but perhaps they are two other butlers or some other members of the Zoldyck family. One above me, hiding in the trees, another person I don't recognize. Gotoh is here too, but he is farther away, probably from a safe vantage point where he can see everything, _she thought, taking a few steps back as a great beast stepped out of the trees, his large dangerous paws leaving faint indents in the ground.

"Mike will take care of these people here," Zebro was saying. "Good job today, Canary-chan."

_And then one person, hiding to my left, crouched low to the ground. He is being very, very careful._

_...Killua._

So he had been watching. During the fight, she had too preoccupied to really search for surrounding presences, only identifying Zebro-san, who she was familiar with, and the faintness of Gotoh some distance away. She had felt the others, but had disregarded them in favor of focusing more on the match.

Canary bowed low, none of her unease showing on her face, and retreated.

.

.

.

Canary was a little surprised when Killua appeared by her side, sliding so easily into step with her that she almost didn't notice. She turned to look at him. He was shorter than her, she noticed, although not by much.

"...you already knew the Rhythm Echo." It was not a question, and sounded more like an accusation.

Canary looked away, swallowing uneasily. "...yes," she admitted, "I'm sorry, Killua-sama."

He glanced at her briefly.

"You think you're stronger than me," Killua said.

She fought the smile that threatened to appear on her face, and she settled for lowering her lashes, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Of course not, Killua-sama."

"Tch," was all he said in response, and there was something in his voice that surprised Canary. Something like...something like..._approval._

"Anyways," Killua said nonchalantly, shifting his grip on his skateboard, "there's no one else my age here, I don't have anyone to play with. Wanna be friends, Canary?"

Canary could not hide the surprise on her face.

_Killua..._

And then, mortifyingly, she felt her cheeks heat up. _Oh my god, _she thought, unable to process for a moment, _he thinks I'm good enough to be his friend. Stop blushing, you idiot. It's embarrassing._

Somehow she had forgotten that Killua was still a child, just like her. Somehow she had forgotten that despite growing up as an assassin in an assassin household, maybe, just like her, he had never really had any friends either. And was that...was he _blushing, too?_

_Wanna...be friends?_

"I..."

And then her voice cut off, and the smile that had been threatening to appear on her face disappeared instantly.

..._no._

Canary had always been good at sensing other people.

_...please._

"...Impossible, Killua-sama," she told him, her heart plummeting, and if he hadn't been struggling to smooth his expression into one of apathy and nonchalance he would have caught the faint flicker of desperation in her face.

Because she was only an apprentice butler, _simply a servant, _and she had her part to play, and right now she could not risk her feelings, because there was someone watching this exchange. They were cleverly hidden; so cleverly hidden that even Killua didn't notice.

But Canary...Canary had always been good at this kind of thing. She had always been good at noticing people.

She dared. She turned her head just the barest fraction, eyes sliding to her right, fighting to keep her warring emotions off her face.

_There. Hidden in the bushes. One person, female. Watching._

"...Lame," Killua finally said, but the smile had disappeared from his face. And then, before Canary could bring herself to speak, he had run off.

And Canary watched him go, struggling to keep the hurt from showing on her face, because _that person was still watching, _and told herself that this was okay. She told herself that this was okay, _it was okay _if they weren't friends, because they really weren't supposed to be. Killua lived in a completely different world from her; he was from a famous family who would probably inherit the assassin household, and she was...she was _nobody, _really.

And no one would notice, not unless they were looking very carefully. Nobody would notice how hard she was clenching her staff, how white her knuckles were. Nobody would notice the barely discernible trembles in her arms as she stopped walking, her breathing forcibly even, her expression blank. Her dark black ringlets swung in front of her face to hide her eyes.

.

.

.

Truly, Canary mused, somewhat despairingly, there was one thing on Kukuroo Mountain that had not changed from Meteor City.

_There is no mercy here._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

><p><strong>Herein ends all that Canon stuff. Woohoo! I kind of took my own spin on things, mainly because Canary has never quite struck me as the type of person who will be so perfectly adjusted to the mannerisms of a butler, apprentice or not. There's something rough in her yet.<strong>

**The ball will now start rolling.**

**Feel free to drop a review- it'd be greatly appreciated!**


	3. vis major

**title: **_horizon._

**summary: **Because for Canary, Meteor City still breathed inside her veins and sang in her blood.

**pairing:** canary x killua

**chapter: **2. vis major (a natural and unavoidable catastrophe that interrupts the expected course of events.)

**disclaimer:** I do not own Hunter x Hunter.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

.

Canary cried out in pain as her entire body collided heavily with the solid trunk of a tree, the rough bark scratching at her arms and legs. Stunned, she slid to the ground, fingers convulsing around her staff as she struggled to regain her breath.

She swallowed with immense effort, her body screaming, and stumbled to her feet.

"Again," Hishita told her disapprovingly. "Pay attention this time."

She wheezed. Her limbs were shaking, and they burned so fiercely that for a moment Canary was afraid she'd collapse, just from the sheer exertion of it.

"You're fast, and you know how to use your size to your advantage," Hishita told her. Across the clearing, he folded his arms, and leveled a sharp frown at her. "But as a new butler you lack stamina. It looks like the weights from the butler mansion aren't enough. From now on, you need to run from the gate of the estate to the butler mansion ten times every morning."

The estate was _huge. _It covered the entire mountain. Even the distance from the estate gate to the butler mansion, Canary knew, would not be an easy feat.

She set her jaw, raised her staff, and nodded.

.

.

.

.

"Tired?"

A plate of food was set down in front of her, and Canary could only nod, still breathing hard from her run. _Stamina problems, _she thought derisively, with an edge of bitterness.

She wasn't _that _lacking in endurance. The first few back-and-forths had been easy. She had only gotten tired around the sixth lap, but by the seventh she had developed a strange looseness in her legs that frightened her. By the tenth lap, she had the terrified feeling that if she stopped moving, her legs would give out from under her, and she would collapse embarrassingly in the doorway. It didn't help that she knew Hishita was watching, and occasionally Gotoh. Even if she had given any indication that she knew they were there, she doubted that the other butlers truly understood how clearly she could feel them.

But it did make sense. They weren't trying to hide their presences, after all - just their bodies. Canary had felt them, yes, but she hadn't seen or heard a single thing. It was both unnerving and yet expected.

Hishita felt like sandpaper. And Gotoh...Gotoh was crisp linen and cracked stone.

Hilda, the cook, gave her a sympathetic look. Canary flushed, embarrassed, and leaned over her plate, brushing away her heavy hair. Her muscles ached in an unfamiliar way; they stung, and she winced when she moved.

"Oh, it's a horridly brutal regimen," Hilda told her, frowning with worry, "and you are so young, dear. But don't worry. Everyone says you show fantastic progress, so eat up. It's very rare to have new apprentice butlers, you see. It's a rather dangerous vocation."

Right. Canary could only nod, her breaths now coming in slightly more controlled puffs. "Hilda-san," she said, glancing up at the rotund, red-haired cook, "what happened to the butlers before me? Who did I replace?"

Something crossed over Hilda's features then, something unexpectedly hard and at odds with her typically sweet disposition. It smoothed over instantly, however. "Oh, dearie," she said, her expression one of understanding, "a lot of bad things happened with our butlers before you came. I'm afraid we're all a bit jumpy over it. As it is, we're actually a little short on staff."

Canary nodded, and took a drink of her milk. She set the mug down, careful not to let its additional weight cause a loud clack on the table's wooden surface, and looked up at Hilda. "I'm an exception, aren't I?" she asked.

Hilda nodded sagely, and then smiled. "You are indeed an exception, Canary-chan! Gotoh handpicked you; that's enough to earn you an apprentice butler status despite your lack of formal training. On the Zoldyck estate, there are actually several facilities meant to train year after year of Zoldyck butlers. A lot of us, we've trained to be butlers since the beginning."

Hmm. That would explain why Hishita had been pushing her so hard, and why everyone else in the butler mansion greeted her with a sense of courteous curiosity. She had never received the formal, year by year training that most of the other butlers had.

Canary smiled at Hilda, humming thoughtfully, and finished her food.

.

.

One day, she found Killua splayed lazily on top of a tree branch, skateboard propped against the tree beneath him. Canary looked up at him, and bowed.

She hesitated for a moment - one moment_ - do you wanna be friends? - _and then continued on her way.

When she dared turn around, he had disappeared.

.

.

.

"You're better at this than I thought you'd be."

Canary hissed in discomfort. She shifted against the hard wooden chair, leaned her head back, and forced herself to relax.

"Must be a Meteor City thing," she said, her voice slightly strained.

The butler folded her arms. She was tall and slender, with shockingly red hair that despite being tied up into a high ponytail still tumbled nearly to her waist in messy curls. She surveyed Canary with narrowed fox-eyes, and then shrugged.

"No," she said, finally, "not a Meteor City thing. Even if you're from that place, you're handling these poisons surprisingly well. Most people would be passed out by now."

Canary smiled weakly. "My head does feel sort of faint," she admitted, "and sort of dizzy. Do all the butlers have to go through this kind of thing?"

"We're to serve the main household in any way that we can. If we can't even handle at least this much, what use are we to them if we are captured and tortured or something similar?" The female butler plucked the needle out of Canary's arm, fingers deftly handling the syringe as she recapped it. When she placed the syringe back on the table, Canary sat up, wincing slightly at the movement.

The butler stopped her from trying to stand up with a firm hand on her shoulder. Canary swallowed with some difficulty, and leaned back into the chair.

The red-haired butler withdrew, and folded her arms again. She would have been considered beautiful, Canary decided, if perhaps her features were less sharp and her movements less callous. Even with the poison muddling her senses and making it difficult to form words, Canary could still insistently recognize the red-haired butler's presence. Lilies and fox canines. Canary tried not to feel self-conscious under the butler's stare, both calculating and keen.

"...you should feel proud."

Canary blinked, wondering if perhaps the aftereffects of the poison were still acting inside her system. "What?" she said, clumsily.

"You should feel proud," the red-haired butler repeated, and reached for a different syringe. "I'll admit Gotoh has a good eye. You have a lot of potential as a butler."

She flicked off the cap of the syringe with smooth, confident movements, and then stabbed the needle into Canary's arm. Canary resisted the urge to jump.

"You're young, but perceptive. Your body is optimally built for speed but also strength, and your cardiovascular system is much stronger than a normal person. You're also a fast learner, and your body is naturally resistant against poisons and pain. Not to mention the fact that you have an uncanny ability to hide your presence despite knowing where other people are, even if they are far away. Gotoh didn't lie when he said you were impressive."

"He-he doesn't actually think that."

Something akin to a smile appeared on the red-haired butler's face, but it reminded Canary more of a fox baring its teeth into a facsimile of a smile.

"There," the female butler told her, taking the needle from Canary's arm, "I've given you the antidote, so you should be able to function properly and do your assigned training and chores for the rest of the day. Make sure to be here tomorrow at the same time, ok? You're naturally resistant to most poisons, but you're still far behind what the other butlers are capable of withstanding."

Canary nodded, already feeling as if her head was a little clearer from the antidote, and managed to stand out without much difficulty.

"...Thanks," she said, "...?"

"You can call me Remillia," the red-haired butler told her.

.

.

.

.

A few weeks later.

Canary's head spun. She had finished her laps for the day, and her legs were still sore from the days before. Her staff dragged against the ground behind her, leaving a crooked line in the dirt.

Canary breathed deep, relishing in the feeling of air in her lungs. For once, there were no other people watching her.

She yawned softly, just as the prickling of two people nudged at her senses, approaching. One was rough cloth and pumpkin - _Zebro-san_, and the other she didn't know, but he felt like hewed wood and sandstone.

With a sigh, Canary picked her staff up from the ground, wiping off any dirt that remained on its blunt end. With a prickle of curiosity, she peered down the path - she had been assigned to clean Mike's cage of its bones today, but she wouldn't be able to get in without Zebro's keys. She wondered what could have possible taken Zebro from his usual office.

As the two figures entered her point of view, Canary hastily grasped her staff behind her back, and bowed deeply.

Then she lifted her head, and heard what could have been a shriek of terror.

There was a man that had been walking with Zebro - _freshly cut wood and sandstone_ - the moment he caught sight of her face, he had panicked, throwing his arms up into the air.

"S-sp-spare me! Ueeehhhh!"

Canary blinked in confusion at the tall man who had instantly recoiled at the sight of her, and had dropped to the ground, hand covering his head.

"...ah?" she managed intelligently. Completely baffled, she turned to Zebro, who had a look of faint amusement on his features.

"...y-you don't...remember me?" The man who was prostrating on the ground lifted his head briefly from under a mop of dark hair, tugging at his headband nervously as he glanced up at her.

Canary scrutinized him briefly, before recognizing his face.

"Oh," she said, eyebrows rising, "you."

He'd been one of the men she had knocked down yesterday as they tried to enter the estate. In fact, he had been the first person who had stepped over the line, and she had whacked him mercilessly in the face in retaliation.

She smiled faintly, still a little confused, "how's your nose?"

The man let out a faint gurgle at her words, paled considerably, and then just as quickly, he had scrambled away from her to hide behind Zebro. Limbs shaking profusely, he peered at her from behind Zebro's rotund body.

"Canary-chan," Zebro said amicably, "this is Seaquant-san. He begged for us to spare his life and is now the newest Zoldyck employee. Please treat him well."

"...oh," Canary said, nodding awkwardly. "Um, okay," she bowed to the man who was still cowering behind Zebro, hands clasping around her staff, "Nice to meet you, Seaquant-san. I'm Canary."

There was another choked gurgle of fear from Seaquant.

"Seaquant-san," Zebro said with a hint of warning, "It is true that while you are a servant, and will probably never meet one of the Zoldycks, Canary-chan is training to actually serve the Zoldyck household. However, she is merely an apprentice butler, and a new one at that. I assure you that she will not hurt you."

"Please relax, Seaquant-san," Canary said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, "While I am sorry our meeting was the way it was, I bear no ill feelings towards you. As we are now both employees of the Zoldyck household, let's do our best and get along?"

There was a muffled whimpering behind Zebro-san, and then Seaquant emerged, pale as a ghost, eyes wide and terrified. He nodded furiously, lips pulled into a forced smile.

"Yeah," he said, his dark scraggly hair bouncing as he nodded with almost panicked vigor, "yeah, g-get al-along, sure."

And then he made an odd choking sound in his throat, and keeled over.

Zebro caught him just as the tall man was about to hit the ground, grimacing. "I'm sorry, Canary-chan. Please understand. Seaquant-san is feeling a little...delicate. I think you scared him a little. You're such a little thing, and you took him out with one hit. He's probably really embarrassed...and also a little terrified."

"Th-that's fine," Canary told him, smiling faintly. She still couldn't quite wrap her mind around the absurdity of the situation. "Zebro-san, I was supposed to clean out Mike's cage today. If it's an inconvenient time for you, shall I come later this afternoon?"

"Not at all, Canary-chan," Zebro replied, and hefted Seaquant easily over one shoulder, frowning slightly. "Mike should be fairly accustomed to your presence by now. Here, have the keys." He fished around in his pockets for a moment, and then drew out a ring of keys. He tossed it at her. Canary caught it with one hand, the keys biting into her palm, and she lifted the ring with some effort. Just like all other servant's possessions, it weighed more than normal.

"It's the largest one, with an X on the back. Off you go then, I have to lug Seaquant back to one of the servant residences."

Canary nodded, and lifted her staff in a short salute, smiling. "Thanks, Zebro-san."

.

.

.

Mike's cell was dark. At the jangle of keys being fitted into the jail cell, two glowing eyes appeared in the darkness, and a low rumble to acknowledge her.

Canary swung open the large gate. With a scraggly shake of his fur, the immense guard dog rose to its feet.

"Good boy, Mike," Canary called, "out you go. I have to clean your cage."

Mike padded out of the large cage, stepping delicately over her, and looked down at her with bright green eyes. He snorted, and his maw opened to reveal sharp canines and a long pink tongue. Then, with another shake of his long fur, he padded off into the forest, every pawstep falling heavily against the ground.

Canary watched him go, and then rubbed the goosebumps away from her arms. _He's just a dog, _she told herself, _and he recognizes you. He won't hurt you.__  
><em>

Then she turned back to the cage, and slipped inside.

.

.

.

"Canary-chan."

The bones clattered from her hands into the disposal bins. Canary paused, and straightened, rolling her shoulders and grimacing at the tight muscles. She turned.

"Zebro-san," she greeted with a smile and a bow, "Has Seaquant-san been taken care of?"

Zebro chuckled, "Yes, he's resting at one of the servant's cabins."'

Canary glanced down at her staff, which she had placed on the ground to free both her hands to get rid of the many skeletons in Mike's cage, before looking back at Zebro. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"Of course," Zebro said, "he'll be fine. We've been fairly short on employees recently, so it's actually a good thing that he's been hired. Don't worry about him, Canary-chan."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Canary's fingers twisted into the tails of her tailored butler suit. "I put the keys to Mike's cage in your office."

"I'm not here for my keys, Canary-chan, but thank you," he said, and there was something off in his tone that made Canary stiffen. Very slowly, she leaned down and picked up her staff from the ground. Her fingers slid over the polished wood.

"Wh-what is it, then?" she stuttered awkwardly, and rolled her staff nervously between her palms.

Zebro gave her a faintly quizzical, faintly appraising look.

"Killua-sama has gone missing," he said, and Canary would not have been able to, not even with her apprentice training, been able to control the surprised stiffening of her posture.

"K-Killua-sama has - ? What?"

Zebro shrugged, "Of course, he's still on the estate. It seems as if he didn't show up to his training today, and has hidden somewhere on the mountain. The Mistress is getting hysterical."

Her fingers clutched reflexively at her staff, squeezing against the unyielding wood.

Zebro seemed unaware of her growing apprehension, and continued undeterred. "The mistress wants Killua-sama to be found, and quickly. I thought you might be best suited to the job. Can you please find him and bring him back to the main manor before lunchtime?"

Canary swallowed, gaze averted. There were only two hours until lunch. "Of-of course, Zebro-san. I- I'll do my best."_  
><em>

She looked up, only to see Zebro's warm smile. She smiled back, but it was more of a tight grimace than anything.

Curiosity got the better of her. "Why would...why would Killua-sama disobey his parents?" she asked.

Something complicated stole over Zebro's expression. "Killua-sama...has been away. He has been gone for two years, and has only just returned. I'm sure he's just...readjusting."

Right. Canary remembered. He had actually returned after she had been hired. She nodded, and decided not to press anymore questions. Then, she gestured to the disposal bins behind her.

"I'm on my last one," she said, "could you maybe - ?"

"I'll take care of it, Canary-chan. Now hurry and go retrieve Killua from wherever new hiding place he's found. The Mistress is not happy right now, and I'd rather have her wrath unleashed sometime other than today."

Canary nodded in gratitude, flashed Zebro a quick smile, and disappeared.

.

.

.

Zebro had been right. She _was _well suited to the job.

She hadn't made a big deal out of it, but it seemed that most of the other servants were aware of how clearly she could feel other people's presences. It had been more of an accident than anything, but Canary was young and sometimes she would comment, "_Oh, Hilda-san's coming,_" even though Hilda wouldn't show up until another ten minutes.

She knew it was uncanny, but she also knew it wasn't unusual.

Anyone - _anyone _- from Meteor City, probably had the same uncanny sense of other people as her. It came as naturally as eating or sleeping. For people who did not exist, people of existence were simply much more noticeable.

And Killua...

...Killua, despite being an assassin, could _never _hide himself from her. _  
><em>

_- wanna be friends?_

She clamped down on her thoughts, and shoved them away.

He was too noticeable. Even if she couldn't see him or hear him, she knew that he was there somehow, and that his presence flared insistently against her senses like forked lightning and cold steel.

He was hiding in a tree, small body pressed against the trunks, skateboard tucked securely under his arm. From below, his entire body would have been hidden by the thick foliage.

"Killua-sama," she said, and bowed.

There was a stirring in the trees. Canary looked up.

There was another rustle of leaves, the whipping of tree branches, and then a blur of white dropped to the ground in front of her. There was no sound to his landing, something that greatly unnerved her.

Killua straightened, and there was an odd frown on his face.

"They sent you to find me," he said.

Canary swallowed at the frustration in his voice. "Yes, Killua-sama."

"Go away."

Canary maintained her composed expression. "I'm afraid I have been given orders by your mother, Killua-sama. She wishes for you to return to the main household before lunch."

"Well, I don't want to. I'm also a Zoldyck member. And I'm gonna be heir someday, so I should outrank mother. Go away, Canary."

She paused then, surprised.

"...you remember my name," she said.

Killua frowned at her. Then he turned, and tossed his skateboard down next the tree.

"Whatever," he said.

Canary bowed again, but it was a half-bow, and she did not want to take her eyes off Killua. "Killua-sama, it is important for you to return to your household, lest the Mistress become too angry."

"I don't care about mother," Killua snapped, and then he took a step forward, frowning at her. "Go _away, _Canary."

Canary shook her head, and kept her hands tightly clasped around her staff. "Killua-sama -"

Killua's hand _mutated, _the veins stretching and tendons elongating, his nails filing into sharp deadly points. He stepped forward, threateningly this time, and there was a strange pressure around him that made Canary's knuckles turn white.

She stayed her ground, controlled her breathing, and did not speak.

"_Canary,_" he snarled, and there was something frightening in his sharp blue eyes, something that vaguely resembled a predator despite his young age, "_go away._"

Canary was frozen for a moment, because she had never seen this side of Killua before, and everything that the servants had told her before came flooding back to her, _even the youngest one can kill you _and _he's a prodigy _and _do not wrong any of the members of the Zoldyck household._

Then she exhaled, and raised her staff, clenching it tightly.

Because Canary was suddenly furious. She was suddenly furious and despite whatever background in Meteor City she had, Canary had only been an apprentice butler for a few weeks and those few weeks were _not enough._

She knew how to act. She knew how to lower her gaze and convey respect with every inch of her body, how to stand straight and bow low, how to word her responses and how to speak. She knew how to fight without regard for her own body, if only to protect the ones she served. She'd been taught by the other butlers, of course. She'd learned fast, and learned well.

But it still wasn't enough. Because for Canary, Meteor City still breathed inside her veins and sang in her blood.

"_No,_" she snarled back, and she did not blink, because she knew that Killua was faster than her and that if she blinked there was a strong possibility that she would get her throat ripped out. "I don't know why you're resisting your mother so much, _Killua-sama, _but I have been given orders to return you to the main mansion before lunch, and I intend to follow them. I _will not _go away."

The air around her _constricted, _and Canary fought back intense shivers as Killua stepped closer, his eyes dark and pitless. She forced herself to control her breathing, but they came out as panicky gasps despite her best efforts. Her anger dwindled, but she grasped it and clutched it close.

"Stupid _girl. _You don't know _anything,_" Killua spat. "I don't know why they sent you to find me."

Canary's fingers felt numb from gripping her staff so hard. "Killua-sama, I understand that you are upset right now, but please just return to the mansion -"

"I don't _want _to. Go away, Canary!" Killua stepped forward, and there was something hateful in his eyes now, the kind that spoke of misplaced frustration and fatigue and faint desperation.

Canary reeled, and her staff lowered slightly. She thought about Zebro's words, _he's been gone for two years, _and wondered if anything had happened.

"Killua-sama," she said, hesitatingly, carefully, "Killua-sama...why are you acting like this? Why don't you want to return to the mansion?"

Something sparked in Killua, and his posture instantly turned rigid and angry.

.

"Why would it matter to _you,_" he seethed, "_Canary? _Why should I tell _you? _We're not friends."

.

.

Canary recoiled as if she had been struck.

.

She lowered her staff, the breath suddenly rushing out of her.

Killua seemed to instantly regret his words, a stricken look suddenly appearing on his face. He opened his mouth, but Canary cut him off.

"Killua-sama," she said, and her words felt hollow and her body strangely stiff, as if perhaps she were trying to speak through liquid, "your mother is waiting. Please return to the main manor by lunch."

Killua had a completely lost expression on his face. His hand twisted back so it was normal again. "Canary, wait -"

She took a step backwards, still feeling strangely numb, wondering briefly if perhaps her legs would be able to support her, and then fled.

"_Canary - !_"

.

.

.

.

.

.

Canary did not say anything when she showed up at the butler's mansion by herself, posture stiff but staff held surprisingly loosely in one hand. Gotoh offered her a smile when she walked in, but the one she returned felt forced.

Gotoh did not comment.

.

.

.

.

.

She supposed, later that day, as she polished her staff, that he had been completely right. She had been too rash, and he probably wasn't used to having a servant raise their weapon against him. This time, she had been in the wrong.

_We're not friends._

If she had been any other girl, she might have been crying. But Canary had forgotten how to cry a long time ago.

Because Killua had been right. She should have returned to the butler's mansion, and asked that someone else retrieve Killua. She should have done anything other than push him with questions that she really had no business asking.

She set down her polishing cloth on the side of the bed, and stared at the gleaming dark wood. There were faint scratches and ridges on there, now, from all the practice she had done.

_We're not friends._

She felt oddly empty.

.

.

.

.

.

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The next day, on her sixth lap from the estate gate to the butler mansion, she was stopped by Zebro.

"Hey, Canary-chan," the old man said, his eyes crinkling into a smile, "good job yesterday. I'm not quite sure how you did it, but Killua-sama returned to the manor just before lunch. The mistress was ecstatic."

Canary paused momentarily, briefly, still panting hard. She forced herself to smile at Zebro, but it felt false.

Then she turned and kept running.

.

.

.

* * *

><p><strong>notes:<strong>

- okay, we're moving into uncharted territory now. Canon HxH does not go into detail about Killua's past, and I will not elaborate on how I'm setting up my story here, but please realize I do have a set timeline in my head of what events are happening in what order. It will probably be up to you to make the connections with canon information though.

- Canary feels presences differently. Much like how each character in HxH has a distinctive nen, she labels every presence she comes in contact with. That's why she describes Zebro having a presence that feels like pumpkins and rough cloth, or Gotoh as crisp linen and cracked stone.

- Hilda and Remillia are OCs. As of now, they are the only OCs. I'm trying to keep the number of OCs in this fic down, just to prevent confusion. Everyone else is pretty much canon though.


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